


I Before E, Except After Dean

by Cave_of_the_mounds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Gen, Metafiction, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cave_of_the_mounds/pseuds/Cave_of_the_mounds
Summary: This is a companion piece to a fic called Failing Grace by SeeNashWrite. It is for part of her Nope/Trapped series which satirizes reader-insert fanfics. It's all in good fun. Not calling out anyone.





	I Before E, Except After Dean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeeNashWrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeNashWrite/gifts).



The promising smell of fresh-brewed coffee draws me in, but what keeps me here is the scene before me. Dean - Michael - whoever, sitting across from a very agitated Nash involved in what could be mistaken for either a lover’s spat or siblings irritating each other to death. Funny as hell either way.

They seem to be okay, for now at least, so I decide to focus on Whyne (pronounced with a phlegmy Hchhuu-why-en) and let them continue their bickering, or flirting, whatever’s happening. I wait for the waitress to get out of the storage closet, trying to pretend not to hear muffled giggles and grunts until they finally emerge, wafting the smell of sex over the coffee shop. I glance over just in time to see her and Green Batman shuffling out of the storage closet wearing matching, almost-guilty expressions and new wrinkles in their clothes. I catch her eyes when she glances my way and she quickly gets back to business, making her way over with notepad in hand.

“Isn’t there some kind of ‘employees must wash hands after banging’ guideline?”  _God, why do they never wash their hands?_

Her mouth gapes in response.

“It’s okay. I can wait.”

She scurries away, returning a few moments with her head hung low.

“Oh, no nono, it’s alright. Get it girl, but I just don’t need any extra fluids getting flung my way.” I give her an encouraging smile. She’s clearly feeling awkward and I am not helping, but what else is new. “Anyways…”

“Yeah, what can I getcha?”

“Uhm, nothing right now I’m waiting on my friends, but maybe you can help me with something else?”

“Oh sure, absolutely. I don’t have to worry about any of the other customers and always seem to have a lot of useful information available to me.”

My eye twinges a little at that, surprised and uncertain of whether or not she’s serious, but she doesn’t leave me hanging long.

“Come on, I mean it, anything you need.”

I glance around making sure no one is giving me the stink eye for taking up too much time, but no one seems to care, so I don’t care.

“Ok, Whyne, I just need a little bit of info for a project I’m working on. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” I fold my hands under my chin, propping my elbows on the counter while I wait for her to get over the blushing and surprise of being asked about herself, ready to prompt her when she says the inevitable  -

“Me? There’s not much to tell, I’m just a regular person.”

Aaaaaannd there it is.

“Awww come on, don’t be modest. Where are you from?”

“Oh, I grew up in YHT.”

I scrunch together my eyebrows, unfamiliar with the abbreviation, which is exactly what I tell her.

“OH, no worries. I don’t think you heard me right it’s Y slash H slash T.”

“Y/H/T…” I trail off, trying to place it but quickly giving up and going another route. “Well, what about friends, you got a good friend around here? Someone who likes to squeal a lot and sets you up on blind dates?”

“You better believe it!” Whyne beams, “That’s my best friend YFN.”

“Is that foreign? Did you miss a few vowels or do I just not know who to pronounce it? Did you say Yeffin?”

She giggles softly at me. “No, silly. It’s Y/F/N. Is your hearing okay?”

A brick of dread settles in my stomach as I realize where she is going with her answers, but I check one more to be sure.

“Oh no, I’m fine, thanks, just not totally with it right now. Umm, just real quick though, what’s your favorite book?”

“Oh man. SO hard to choose, but I suppose I would probably say Y/F/B.”

My nostrils flare and I had to work to unclench my jaw to continue my questioning. “Whyne, is there ANYTHING specific you can tell me about yourself or where we are that might give me some insight as to what’s going on around here?”

Her eyes get wide and she shifts nervously at that, “Are you a reporter?”

“Of sorts, but don’t worry, this is all just between you and me. I’m not looking for any trouble, just trying to help some friends.”

Her face tightens up a little with worry, but she gives me pity and nods to herself with assurance. “Of course. If it’s to help your friends, then count me in. What do you need?”

Typical Whyne, always so accommodating. “Just talk to me, tell me everything about yourself. Don’t leave anything out. Please?”

She shakes her head with disbelief and nervously shifts in her seat, “Don’t know what’s so interesting about me. And you want everything?”

I nod.

“Okayy, here goes - I was born on Y/B/D at Y/B/T to my parents, Y/M/N and Y/F/N. My nickname is Y/N/N. I grew up in Y/H/T and went to school at Y/S/N. I drive a Y/M/M. My favorite food is Y/F/F and my favorite drink is Y/F/D. My favorite color is Y/F/C, favorite shape is Y/F/S, favorite t.v. show is Y/F/TVS, and favorite movie is Y/F/M. In my free time I like to do Y/F/H. My ex E/BF/N is a total pain in the ass. My landlord’s name is Y/L/N. I live on Y/S/N. My favorite time of day is Y/F/T/O/D. My favorite season is Y/F/S. My favorite fruit is Y/F/F and my favorite vegetable is Y/F/V. The color of the carpet in my bedroom is Y/C/C, and the drapes are Y/D/C. Ummm, my eyes are Y/E/C, and my hair is Y/H/C. My favorite place to go is Y/F/P. Want me to go on?”

God, do I want to scream no, but she hasn’t given me anything useful yet. “Please do. You’re so interesting. I love getting to know these details all about you.”

“Well, thanks. My favorite animal is Y/F/A, my favorite dinosaur is…”

She drones on and on, and as I stare and listen, hoping for something useful to the story, I swear that she is suddenly in a soft frame, like a living, breathing, fuzzy-around-the-edges Glamour shot photo, and as I try to discreetly look around for the source of the gentle lighting, she finally says something that catches my full attention.

“-the best part of working here at C/S/N is getting to spend so much time with my boyfriend, Stevie -”

I crack my neck with how hard I snap to attention at that. “Whoa whoa, who now?”

“Stevie, my boyfriend,” she says as she raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to the barista currently burning the milk he’s attempting to foam.

“That’s…that’s…you call him Stevie?”

“Well, that’s what I call him because I wuv him so much and all cute nicknames end with an ‘ie’ at the end.”

“Okay, thanks! I think that’s all I need to hear,” I push away from the counter and make my way to the table where Nash and Mikey Dean are sitting amicably. If this wasn’t such an urgent matter, I’d probably sit back and watch for a while to see where that went, but, not today. [Not on Rex Manning Day](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D30fw5My1QJM&t=ZDY0YzAwOGUwYjY4OTc1YjVkMjUzMGJjZWI0MzExMWFhYjBjODNmNCxkdmJjcWgwdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AReMiEzzky94xij0CG1pcQQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbutiaintgonnaloveem.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178434474638%2Fi-before-e-except-after-dean&m=1), which is not actually today, but doesn’t matter. Time to break the news.

“There a problem here?” I ask, interrupting the friendly silence.

I could tell that Nash was about to tell me off, thinking it’s Whyne interrupting again, but instead she does a double-take, mouth curving into a wicked grin. “‘Bout time.”

“Yeah, well I was trying to finish up that [animal banging fic](http://butiaintgonnaloveem.tumblr.com/post/177669827923/try-to-understand-masterlist) I was writing.”

“Animal banging?” Dean asks, “Is that some tentacle porn kind of thing.”

Nash snorts and I can’t stop the surprised laugh that escapes, “Ha…aha, uhhh, no, it’s…you know what? I don’t feel like explaining it. Do I get to sit or what?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean moves over to make room, “So what’re you doing here?”

“I’m also here to try to save your asses.”

“Thank Jeebus,” she exhales.

“Awesome. Okay, so what do we do? Do you need to write something or what? That’s how Nash does it.”

“Sort of. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out the problem.”

They both stare at me expectantly.

“It’s hiatus.”

Dean’s lip snarls a bit when he grunts out a “huh” while Nash crosses her arms and leans back into her seat letting out a more thoughtful “huh” of her own.

Dean turns to Nash, eyes squinted in annoyance, “Don’t you ‘huh’ like you know what the hell she means. That makes no sense.”

Nash tilts her head to give him a look from under her brow. “Okay Tiff. Go on.”

Feeling like Nash will take this news a little easier, I decide to focus on explaining things to Dean. “Okay, so it’s hiatus, which is…well basically the documentary crew is taking a break.”

“So they didn’t catch that incident in IKEA?” he interrupts.

I cross my arms to pout, “No, unfortunately.” He shoots a raised-eyebrow glare my way. “What? That woulda been hilarious. IKEA is a nightmare.”

“It fucking is,” he nods.

“The lighting is weird and the maps make no sense-”

“I know, right? It’s a straight line, but you’re always turning. I mean, I found my way around Purgatory without a map, but that place might actually be Hell with how turned around it makes you-”

Nash snaps her fingers at us. “Focus before he freezes again!”

“Alright. So, hiatus…uhmm…we don’t have anything new, so the writers kind of lose focus and with not knowing jack squat about Mikey Dean aside from the speakeasy vibe. Because they don’t know how to write you, they just aren’t.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” He checks.

“Yes and no. It makes things chaotic, and the writers tend to veer off from your reality. Like right now.”

“So, what is this?”

“Let’s get Whynie over here to help me lay this out for you.”

“You say my name?” she hollers from across the cafe, ears like a bat on that one.

“Hey, yeah, can you tell my friends a little about yourself?”

“I’d love to!” She moves like she’s going to sit next to Nash, who scoots over to make sure there’s not enough room. Whynie goes on, undeterred, “I’m really an open book. I like all kinds of music, but my favorite is probably Y/F/M/G. My dream vacation is Y/D/V/D. On pizza I like Y/F/P/T. You know those smelly things you plug into the outlet that make your house smell amazing? My favorite one is Y/F/A/F/S.”

“Okay, reader insert, we already knew that,” Nash rubs at her temples.

“Yeah. Whynie, just between us of course, can you tell me friends here who your boyfriend is?”

She looks alarmed, and mumbles her response, “Stevie.”

Nash squints in thought for a few seconds before talking, “Okay, that gives us a few options. We’ve got the Marvel Rogers, DC’s Trevor, Babysitter Steve from Stranger Things…”

“Hang on, you think I’m talking about dating Captain America?” Whynie interrupts. “That’s not a real person.”

Nash lifts an eyebrow at the tone Whynie uses to imply that she’s either stupid or crazy and I jump in before Nash can put her butterknife through the waitresses’ eye.

“We know that, we’re just playing a name game thing. Can you give us a few minutes?”

She smiles happily and steps away as Dean asks, “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t say it,” Nash grits out.

“Say what?” Dean asks, his eyes shifting nervously between myself and Nash.

“It’s where we are,” I sigh then continue, “Real Person Fiction.”

“Which means what exactly?”

I roll my eyes back so hard my head tilts too. “Well, you remember when Balthy sent you to that other dimension where you were Jensen Ackles?”

“The soap opera douche?”

“That’s the one, oh man, we should show you ‘[Blonde’](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DRCCyPFTl10o&t=ZmMzMmYyMDgxZDI2ZDc0MzBmMDBiYWEyZGEzMzZiMzFlMTc3NTA3YSxkdmJjcWgwdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AReMiEzzky94xij0CG1pcQQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbutiaintgonnaloveem.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178434474638%2Fi-before-e-except-after-dean&m=1),” a glance over at Nash reminds me to get to the point, “Some…other ..time. Okay, so anyways, they’re writing about him, and that’s where I think we’re stuck.”

“So just write us out. Blah blah blah, some spell transports us back and done.”

My face scrunches up as I cringe, “Yeah, that’s the thing. We don’t write RPF,” I wiggle my finger between myself and Nash.

Mikey!Dean!Jensen looks between us, unimpressed. “You just told me you were writing something about furries, but you don’t write about  _that_  guy?”

“It’s not about furries, and no. So, we’ve gotta figure out another way to get out of here. Since she’s banging Stevie Amell over there, it seems like you’re just a side character, so maybe if we get you into a disguise we can just sneak you out.”

JenMikeyDeansen makes an indignant and unflattering sound, “I’m already in disguise.”

“Sure you are hun,” Nash says without looking at him, instead focusing on me, “But that doesn’t make a lick of sense. If it’s RPF, then why would Dean be here and not Jensen.”

“Beats me. Maybe Whynie can fill in some blanks.”

“Oh! Hey that’s me!” Whynie shouts as she jumps back into our space.

“Yeah, we’re tagging you in again,” Nash responds with an eye roll.

“More coffee? Pie? Anything you all need, I can and will do it. Jensie?”

I bite hard on my lip to keep from giggling at the nickname which Dean ignores as he leans in at the mention of pie, but I push him back into his seat, “Nope, none of that, just another couple of questions.”

“Okay.”

“Great. So, if I had to have you describe our friend here,” I jab at thumb at JenMikeyDeansen, “What would you have to say about him?” She looks at me with uncertainty, but I egg her on, “Just pretend he’s not even here. Should be easy since he’s  _so_  incognito.”

“Well, okay. He’s charming, quick-witted, unreasonably handsome, athletic, can be so sweet when the mood is right, has great taste in music and cars, but…”

“But what?” The three of us say in sync.

“He’s kind of a ladies’ man _ifyougetwhatimean_ , kind of sleeps around and doesn’t do commitment, he’s snarky a lot, is a little bit obsessed with pie and alcohol and cheeseburgers and rock stars, but like, old rock stars, he’s kind of quick to anger and really really secretive.”

“Dismissed,” Nash waves her off. “Well, that clears up a few things.”

“Yeah,” I turn to JensieMcDeanie, “They’re basically writing you.” His lip snarls like he’s about to defend himself, but I hold him off with a hand on his arm, “Like the most basic, first-glance version of you, but putting Jensen in as the name. It’s character bleed which is how you got sucked in and why you’re stuck playing the part.”

“And how do we get out?”

“The best way out is always through.” Nash recites.

“Robert Frost, smart guy,” JenMikeyDeansen says with a wink.

Nash and I both tilt our heads thoughtfully.

“What?!” he growls at us, “Why does everyone think I’m practically illiterate and get all surprised when I know things?”

“Laziness?”

“Bad writing?”

“Inconsistent character development?”

“Uneven storytelling?”

We all sit in silence for a moment, happy to be in agreement over that issue before getting back to the task at hand.

“Okay, so, I guess, you caught a break and don’t need to do any acting this time around. You can just be you and we should be able to make our way out as long as we follow the script. Once night falls and we’ve got some cover, we can go and explore and try to see what else is going on around here.”

Nash gets a troubled look on her face, brings her wrist up to check her watch and scowls some more. “That’s…it should’ve been dark already. We’ve been in here for hours.”

“Well, we can wait a little longer, and while we do, I’m gonna enjoy some pie,” JenMikeyDeansen rubs his hands together before summoning Whynie again.

-Several hours later-

“My watch hasn’t moved, it hasn’t gotten any darker outside, and no one has left or come in since Deanie started his personal pie eating contest. There is something terribly wrong here.”

“Yeah, my plate’s empty. Where’s she?”

“Not sure, I saw her go to the kitchen, but she’s been gone a while.”

“Probably getting drilled by Stevie. I don’t blame her, have you [seen him work out](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DBuJk69zP0No&t=YzIyNDIzMDM1NWI2NzY1MzU1N2IxODcyOWU3ZGU2OGRjNGU3Mjk0MCxkdmJjcWgwdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AReMiEzzky94xij0CG1pcQQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbutiaintgonnaloveem.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178434474638%2Fi-before-e-except-after-dean&m=1)? The salmon ladder thing is just…” I gaze off into the distance for a moment, “Anyways.”

Nash and JenMikeyDeansen stare at me before they each shake away their expressions, “Right, anyways. Whyn-ie!” Nash calls.

Whynie pushes through the back door, yawning and wearing a completely new outfit. “Oh hey guys, you’re here early. What can I get you?”

“Early? We haven’t even…wait, what’s today’s date?”

“It’s T/D. Why?”

“Why did I bother to ask?” Nash laments while rubbing her temples. “When’s the last time we saw you?”

She backs away from the table in tiny, scurrying steps while she giggles uncomfortably.

“Okay, Jensie, your friends are freaking me out. Are they homeless? You guys haven’t changed clothes in days. Are you sure you’re safe with them, do I need to call someone?” She stage-whispers the last part right over my head and I bite my cheek as I try to keep from back-handing her while she’s close enough.

“Nah, we’re all aces.” He winks and her body shivers as she swoons. “Can we get a fresh pot?” he gestures to the empty coffee cups.

“Coming right up!” she skips away, apparently pleased with his answer.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” he whines, eyes wide and nostrils flared.

“Well, my guess is that either the writer forgot how time works, or…” I pause, thinking things out for a moment.

“Or what?”

“Once she brings over our coffee. Do nothing. Don’t talk to her.”

“So you want me to freeze frame again?”

Nash’s lip twitches in disgust.

“No, no one wants that. I have a theory, but if Whyn - I mean, if she keeps involving us, I won’t be able to test it. We have to try.  _You_  can’t stay here.  _We_  can’t stay here, and it might be our best and only escape route.”

“But that’s rude. Can’t we at least thank her for the coffee?”

“No.”

“What about when I need a refill?”

“You won’t. Now shut it,” Nash hisses.

Whynie comes back wielding a fresh carafe of coffee and only lingers for a moment when we don’t even nod in thanks.

“So, now what?” Dean mutters, lips barely moving as though he’s afraid to even move.

“Now, we sit and wait.” Dean shifts as though he’s about to protest, but I stop him. “We can talk, but no matter what happens or who we see, we cannot interact with them. Don’t even use their names, we can’t summon anyone over or it won’t work.”

He nods. Nash nods. I nod. It’s good.

For a long while, nothing happens. DeanieMcJensen freezes. Twice. Whynie slowly wanders past our table several times, but never really stops. She flirts relentlessly with Salmon-ladder Steve, and we drink our coffees.

A few other familiar faces turn up - other actors who seem to live on the CW lot, but it’s when I see two familiar shapes at the door, I nearly hit the panic button.

“Okay, umm, Dean. Listen up. You remember when [Sam was in Sad Land](https://seenashwrite.tumblr.com/post/175765613140/declaration-of-my-feelings-for-you) with you-know-who? And then you remember how you got outta there?” He mmhmms quietly. “Okay, well, just keep your cool…again.”

He looks up, eyes and mouth widening in sync. “Is-is that?”

Nash glances over her shoulder, “Nope, not that Murder Daddy guy.”

“So, it’s my da-”

“Nope, not John-boy either.”

“So who?”

Nash goes back to stacking the creamers, “Well, I imagine this time around he’s going by-”

“JEFFIE!!” Whynie shrieks from the counter before bouncing over to hug the newcomers. “And you brought Normie!”

“Dear god. We’re in an alternate universe real person fiction fandom crossover fic.” Dumbfounded is not even close to describing my expression.

In a tone heavily implying boredom, Nash replies, “Well, I’d argue that all RPF should automatically be considered as AU’s because-”

“Who’re those guys?” Dean asks, watching as Whynie giggles and blushes endlessly.

“They’re on a zombie show. They’re like the brotp now.”

“Brotp?” Dean’s unimpressed. “What the fuck.”

“They’re male besties. They complete each other. All giggles and inside, probably dirty, jokes.” I sigh, “This is so not cool.”

“You’re not gonna fangirl, are you?” Nash asks without looking away from her creamer and butter castle she’s building on the table.

“No, I just wish I could ask questions.”

“Like?”

“Well, how come no one in the zombie apocalypse is snagging a bicycle? I mean, it’s faster than walking, you don’t have to worry about the noise or gasoline, and all you gotta do is strap a baby seat on the back to haul some stuff. And guess what? Something happens to it? You can snag another one because they’re everywhere. You don’t have to worry about not fitting through those massive pile-ups of cars, can park it right outside of wherever you’re scavenging…”

I watch as Nash and Dean share a look in solidarity.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve just…thought a lot…about that.” Dean rambles.

“It’s. So. Practical,” I say, slamming my hand against the table for emphasis. “Why can’t it just happen?”

“It’s not dramatic enough,” Nash answers. “Walking makes the characters vulnerable and creates a slow pace, and the vehicle issues help…”

We lose track of the other cafe occupants as we discuss the appropriate strategies and problems with zombie-lands and how to deal with them. I reach for my cup of cold coffee just as the lights go out in the cafe. We all scan the room, finding it completely empty, no lights, no other sounds, no other people.

“We did it. It worked,” I say, barely hiding my amazement.

“Did what?” Dean asks, mouth hanging slightly open.

“We became a dropped plot point. Whoever, whatever, was in charge completely forgot you were part of the story and left you out.”

“Which means, we can find another story to write you outta here and escape ourselves,” Nash adds, flicking a folded triangle napkin at Dean.

He swats it away, “Don’t act so relieved, you’re gonna miss me when we all go.”

Her eyes narrow slightly and her lips curl up into an almost Abaddon-esgue smile, “Hey Tiff, you got a phone we can scroll through?”

“Yeah, I do.” I slide out of the seat and move to sit next to her so that we can look over the fics on my phone. We find one that makes us both snort immediately and without even needing to say it out loud, we get to work.

“Excellent,” she whispers, then looks up to Dean, “Well, Deanie, this has been a blast, but I’ve got a bottle of Moscato back in our reality that must be missing me by now and I have got to go scrub the stench of Whynie off of me. So, enjoy your new adventure.”

We both scoot out of the booth to make our way to the door.

“Well, where the hell are you sending me? No clingy psychos or weird not me-but sorta me kinda places, right?”

“Can’t make any promises, but you know what to do if you do get stuck there now.”

“Well, can you at least tell me what to expect?”

Nash and I share a look and continue to make our way to the door, knowing we’ll need to duck out as quickly as possible.

“Sure, let me read you the first line,” I say before dramatically clearing my throat. “‘Dean’s muscles glistened in the sun like a moist otter. It was magnificent’ - oh shit! Nash! Run!”


End file.
